flat nose,—a heavy moustache and beard.
Only the upper part of his body is exhibited,
and one can scarcely tell whether the painter
represents it as being covered with hair,
leaves, or sheepskin. His arms are bare,
and his hands thrown carelessly the one over
the other, as if in complete satisfaction with
himself. Another picture represents him
with an apron of leaves round his loins, holding
the sun in one hand, and the moon in
the other. A third artist has pictured him
with a chisel and mallet in his hands, splitting
and sculpturing huge masses of granite.
Through the immense opening made by his
labour, the pun, moon, and stars are seen;
and at his right hand stand, for companions,
the unicorn and the dragon, the phoenix
and the tortoise. He appears as a strong
naked giant, taking pleasure in the carving
out of the mountains, stupendous pillars,
caves, and dens. During his eighteen
thousand years of effort, we are told that,
"his head became mountains, his breath
winds and clouds, and his voice thunder.
His left eye was made the sun, and his right
eye the moon. His teeth, bones, and marrow
were changed into metals, rocks, and
precious stones. His beard was converted
into stars, his flesh into fields, his skin and
hair into herbs and trees. His limbs became
the four poles; his veins, rivers; and his
sinews formed the undulations on the face
of the earth. His very sweat was transformed
into rain, and whatever insects stuck to or
crept over his gigantic body, were made into
human beings!"

The uneducated Chinese are careless, and
the educated sceptical, about these things.
As a people they are not easily induced to
pay much regard to whatever has reference
to more than everyday social wisdom.
The sort of doctrine common now among
the learned, is indeed found in the succeeding
passage from a Chinese author:—" But
as everything (except heaven and earth)
must have a beginning and a cause, it is
manifest that heaven and earth always
existed, and that all sorts of men and beings
were produced and endowed with their
various qualities, by that cause. However, it
must have been Man that in the beginning
produced all the things upon the earth. Him,
therefore, we may view as Lord; and it is
from him, we may say, that the dignities of
rulers are derived."

PÈRE PANPAN.

"MONSIEUR PANPAN lives in the Place
Valois," said my friend, newly arrived from
London on a visit to Paris, "and as I am
under promise to his brother Victor to deliver
a message on his behalf, I must keep my
word even if I go alone, and execute my
mission in pantomime. Will you be my interpreter?"

The Place Valois is a dreamy little square
formed by tall houses: graced by an elegant
fountain in its centre; guarded by a red-
legged sentinel; and is chiefly remarkable in
Parisian annals as the scene of the assassination
of the Duc de Berri. There is a quiet
melancholy air about the place which accords
well with its traditions; and, even the little
children who make it their playground on
account of the absence of both vehicles and
equestrians, pursue their sports in a subdued
tranquil way, hanging about the fountain's
edge, and dabbling in the water with their
little fingers. Monsieur Paiipan's residence
was not difficult to find. We entered by a
handsome porte-cochere into a paved
courtyard, and, having duly accounted for our
presence to the watchful concierge who sat
sedulously peering out of a green sentry-box,
commenced our ascent to the upper regions.
Seeing that Monsieur lived on the fourth
floor, and that the steps of the spacious staircase
were of that shallow description which
disappoint the tread by falling short of its
expectations, it was no wonder that we were
rather out of breath when we reached the
necessary elevation; and that we paused a
moment to collect our thoughts, and calm our
respiration, before knocking at the little
backroom door, which we knew to be that of
Monsieur Panpan.

Madam Panpan received us most graciously,

setting chairs for us, and apologising
for her husband who, poor man, was sitting
up in his bed, with a wan countenance,
and hollow, glistening eyes. We were
in the close heavy air of a sick chamber.
The room was very small, and the bedstead
occupied a large portion of its space. It was
lighted by one little window only, and that
looked down a sort of square shaft which
served as a ventilator to the house. A pale
child, with large wandering eyes, watched us
intently from behind the end of the little
French bedstead, while the few toys he had
been playing with lay scattered upon the
floor. The room was very neat, although its
furniture was poor and scanty, and by the
brown saucepan perched upon the top of the
diminutive German stove, which had strayed,
as it were, from its chimney corner into the
middle of the room, we knew that the pot-au-feu
was in preparation. Madame, before
whom was a small table covered with the unfinished
portions of a corset, was very agreeable
—rather coquettish, indeed, we should
have said in England. Her eyes were
bright and cheerful, and her hair drawn
back from her forehead à la Chinoise. In
a graceful, but decided way, she apologised
for continuing her labours, which were
evidently works of necessity rather than of
choice.

"And Victor, that good boy," she exclaimed,
when we had further explained the object of
our visit, " was quite well! I am charmed!
And he had found work, and succeeding so